


Under Siege

by the_me09



Series: Burn You Up [2]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Far From Home (2019)
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM Scene, Begging, Bottom Quentin Beck, Collars, Dark Tony Stark, Exhibitionism, Kinktober, Leashes, M/M, Quentin Beck is in over his head
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:27:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27254173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_me09/pseuds/the_me09
Summary: Tony loves it when Quentin begs. It’s hard to get him there, get him so desperate, so out of his head, tear his pride away enough that he will, but that makes it all the sweeter. It’s so satisfying, when Quentin finally gives in.
Relationships: Quentin Beck/Tony Stark
Series: Burn You Up [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1989973
Comments: 6
Kudos: 25
Collections: Kinktober 2020 - the_me09





	Under Siege

**Author's Note:**

> Kinktober Day Twenty Eight - Begging

Tony loves it when Quentin begs. It’s hard to get him there, get him so desperate, so out of his head, tear his pride away enough that he will, but that makes it all the sweeter. It’s so satisfying, when Quentin finally gives in. 

Just the way he was when Tony first collared him, a little panicky, a little wild-eyed, but he gives in every time. Tony knows Quentin likes the collar, that it gets him all hot and bothered when Tony touches it, tugs it. 

Like tonight, when he’d hooked a leash onto the D-ring at the front, and Quentin had flushed, gone wide-eyed, his breathing shallow. God, it’s such a good look on him, that smug facade cracking. 

“Tony…” Quentin says, warning. As if he should be warning Tony of anything. 

Tony tugs the leash, and Quentin stumbles into him, clutching Tony’s arms. “I’ve made reservations for us, handsome. Don’t want to be late,” Tony says with a smirk. 

“Reservations? What are you talking about?” Quentin frowns, pulling back, letting go of Tony. He always starts out so combative and stubborn. God, he’s so much fun. “You can’t be thinking of taking me out in public on a leash.” 

Is he really so innocent of the scene? Tony shakes his head. “It’s an exclusive club, I wouldn’t call it public.” He wraps the end of the leash around his hand, and Quentin is forced to follow, or be yanked along. 

~*~

Tony can tell Quentin is annoyed, is feeling particularly stubborn tonight. His eyes are narrowed, dark, and it will be so fucking satisfying when he slides into a softer mood, when his eyes go limpid and pleading. 

The dining room is set up like a dinner theater, with a stage to one side, circular tables spread around, most are already occupied. Tony wanted people to see them. People greet him as he makes his way to the table, other tech company executives, government officials. Quentin’s mouth is a tight line. Tony introduces Quentin to all of them, showing off what’s his. He knows for a fact that Quentin pitched ideas to at least two of these men and was turned down. That was before he was Tony’s, now he’s sure they’d jump at the chance to fund him, steal a project. 

Quentin’s face is red by the time they get to their table. It’s dead center for the stage, a perfect view of tonight’s performances, though he’ll be way too distracted with Quentin to watch. 

“There’s only one chair,” Quentin hisses. Tony sees him notice the cushion on the floor, sees the flash or horror. “Tony,” Quentin’s tone is disbelieving. 

“I know you’re new to this, but you’re smart, you can figure it out,” Tony says with a smirk. 

Quentin glances at the chair, and Tony can tell he’s debating trying to sit in it first. Tony sits, watches Quentin expectantly. His throat bobs, but Quentin sinks to his knees, hands clenched at his sides, shoulders hunched like he’s trying not to be noticed. He’ll get used to being seen like this. 

“Posture,” Tony says, crossing his legs and gesturing for a waiter. 

Quentin glares at him, but straightens up, crosses his wrists behind his back, and tips his head up. That pride is beautiful when it’s at Tony’s behest. 

Tony enjoys toying with Quentin, resting his hand in Quentin hair, the back of his neck, making him shudder. He feeds Quentin parts of his dinner by hand, grinning at each glare Quentin throws his way. Quentin tried to refuse the first few bites, but Tony threatened to smear it over his face, or put it on the floor for Quentin to eat like a dog. 

The show starts, the lights dim. Tony tugs the leash gently, and Quentin turns to look up at him, eyes narrowed, glinting in the reflected light of the stage. 

“Come up, sit on my lap,” Tony says, uncrossing his legs. 

Quentin hesitates, then stands unsteadily. Tony catches him around the waist, guiding him to sit on Tony’s lap, legs spread over Tony’s thighs. He’s a warm weight, settling with his back to Tony’s chest. It’s taking Quentin a while to warm up to being his, but he makes the prettiest little sub. Quentin’s breath hitches when Tony runs a hand over his stomach, brushing the bulge in his pants. 

“You’ve been so good tonight,” Tony says, cupping Quentin’s cock. Quentin jerks his hips with a soft gasp. “I think that deserves a reward.” 

“Tony, I don’t think-” Quentin starts to shake his head, pushes as if he’s going to stand up. Tony wraps the leash around his hand tighter, so Quentin can’t pull away. 

“No, right now, you don’t think,” Tony cuts Quentin off. “Don’t ruin this, you’re being so good, not fighting me like usual.” 

He watches Quentin’s lashes flutter, his chest rising and falling shallowly. Quentin is stunning, and Tony wants to show him off. Everyone in the room knows Quentin is brilliant, but they haven’t gotten to see the best part. 

Tony undoes Quentin’s pants, pushing them down just below his ass. Quentin makes as if to cover himself, jerking, his hands flying in front of his crotch. 

“Eh, eh, hands off, that’s mine,” Tony says, kissing Quentin’s neck. He buries his fingers into Quentin’s hair, guiding their mouths together in a sloppy sideways kiss. Quentin’s stiff, uncomfortable, but Tony will loosen him up. “I hope you prepared yourself like I asked, otherwise this won’t be nearly as pleasant as you want.” 

Quentin makes a soft noise into Tony’s mouth. When they pull away his eyes are squeezed shut like he’s in pain. That won’t do, he wants to watch Quentin lose coherence, watch the degeneration of that mind until he’s nothing but a desperate cockslut. 

Tony slips two fingers into Quentin easily and grins. “Look at me, baby,” Tony says. Quentin opens his eyes enough to glare at him. “You’re being so good for me, already open and ready for me to fuck.” 

Quentin flushes, despite the glare. Tony knows he likes to be told how good he is, how perfect. It’s probably the ego on him, but if he’s being good, Tony sees no reason not to indulge him. 

He pulls his fingers out of Quentin and wraps his hand around Quentin’s cock instead. It’s hot in his hand, slick with precome, so Quentin hasn’t completely hated this outing, though Tony doubts he’d ever admit to anything other than embarrassment. Good to know. He strokes Quentin lazily, keeping his fist tight, strokes him until Quentin’s arching up off his lap, legs tight on Tony’s thighs. 

“Don’t you dare come before I say,” Tony says, nipping Quentin’s ear. 

Quentin moans quietly, panting against Tony’s jaw, his face turned inward, toward Tony’s. He pauses in jerking Quentin off, and gets a small whimper before Quentin chokes the noise back. God, he’s doing wonderfully. Tony shifts Quentin a little so he can unzip his pants and get his own cock out. 

Tony slides into Quentin easily, letting out a soft groan at how perfectly tight he is. Quentin’s fingers contract on the arms of the chair and he makes a soft high pitched noise and then clenches his jaw. Still fighting it, well Tony will get him to the point of begging tonight. 

The show on stage is far less interesting than Quentin, and Tony can tell others agree. He can feel the eyes on them. Tony rarely brings his toys out to play, so people take notice of Quentin, as they should. 

“Everyone’s looking at us, Quentin,” Tony murmurs, his hand going back to stroking Quentin’s cock lazily. 

Quentin jerks, tightening up around Tony’s dick. He looks around wildly, his blue eyes wide. They’ve got that panicked edge that he gets just before the sweetness sets in. Tony rocks his hips in rhythm with his hand, slow, steady, relentless. Quentin drops his head back to Tony’s shoulder, and Tony wraps his free hand around Quentin’s neck, stroking over the collar, the soft skin beneath it. 

“Tony,” Quentin whimpers. 

“You’re doing so good, you feel so good on my cock,” Tony says, watches how Quentin shudders. Quentin scrunches his face, tosses his head as Tony fuck him. He’s still fighting, panting, and Tony knows just how to send him under. He thrusts right against Quentin’s prostate. 

Quentin jerks, and then goes limp, sprawling over Tony, letting himself be used however Tony sees fit. His head lolls, nose brushing the underside of Tony’s jaw. 

“That’s it, baby, let me do all the work. You just take it,” Tony says warmly. He tightens his hand on Quentin’s throat, and on his dick. Quentin moans, louder than before, his hips working. 

Tony starts fucking Quentin hard, more purposeful. He bites at Quentin’s shoulder through his shirt, grunting as he speeds his pace. Quentin’s body is hot and tight around him, and he’s crying out with each thrust now. 

“You know what I want to hear,” Tony murmurs. 

“Please,” Quentin’s voice cracks. “ _ Please _ , Tony,  _ Tony _ , oh fuck, please,” Quentin begs breathlessly. His cheeks are flushed, his eyes limpid, heavy lidded. Each thrust brings another round of ‘please’ and ‘Tony’ until he’s convinced those are the only two words Quentin remembers. 

“Come for me, I want to feel it,” Tony says breathlessly. 

Quentin cries out, arching his back, pushing Tony’s cock deeper as his hips jerk, his cock pulsing in Tony’s hand. Come splatters on Quentin’s shirt, and Tony makes sure to milk him until he sobs, trying to escape Tony’s hand. He fucks Quentin faster while he’s limp, his limbs loose, like a rag doll. Quentin’s still twitching around him when Tony comes, sucking a mark on Quentin’s jaw.

Tony basks in the afterglow for a little while, finally able to enjoy the last bit of the show. Quentin’s head lolls on his shoulder, one of his hands coming up to rest on Tony’s still around his neck, pressing the collar against his throat. 

When Quentin gives in, he’s perfect. Tony calls for his car not long after, tucking himself back in his pants, and pulling Quentin’s pants up, getting him dressed enough to make it outside. Quentin’s unsteady on his feet, leaning heavily on Tony as they head to the car. Quentin curls into him once they’re in the backseat. He’s still far gone, out of it. 

“So good for me,” Tony murmurs and kisses his head, gathering Quentin close. He shivers, dazed. 

Tony’s not sure if he’s seen Quentin this far under before. It seems the leash outing was a success. He’ll have to take Quentin back there. 


End file.
